I love our Synchrotron

Microtechnology and nanotechnology have the capacity to revolutionise virtually all aspects of manufacturing.

Microtechnology is engineering on the scale of one millionth of a metre. Nanotechnology is engineering on the scale of one billionth of a metre, or at the scale of an atom.Micro-scale and nano-scale objects such as miniaturised electrical and mechanical devices have unique physical and chemical properties, for example greater flexibility or strength.

Rice, barley and other cereal grains are important energy sources for many millions of people around the world. Unfortunately, diets that rely too heavily on these relatively poor sources of nutrition are often low in important micronutrients such as iron. In response to increasing global concern about dietary deficiencies, Australian researchers are using synchrotron techniques to investigate various strategies to improve the levels of iron and other important micronutrients in these staple food grains.

CSIRO’s Jose Varghese and University of Melbourne collaborators used x-ray crystallography at the Australian Synchrotron to reveal the structure of a key protein involved in Alzheimer’s disease. The researchers fused the protein to a shark antibody to stop the protein from self-assembling.

"The Australian Synchrotron has huge engagement and investment from life sciences," says Dr Andrew Peele. "Probably half of our beam lines have significant involvement with life scientists, such as through protein crystallography looking at protein structure, but also our small and wide angle X-ray scattering beam lines, which can engage with the structures of proteins and solving the problems of function of the mechanisms inside cells.

One of the challenges for in-vitro fertilisation (IVF) is the failure rate, especially in older women where less than one in four cycles are successful. Monash University’s researchers hope that synchrotron light can improve the success rate. "We’re using the infrared beamline to study how mammalian eggs mature. Our hope is that we will be able to better assess the viability of eggs for use in IVF." The synchrotron gives a much greater capacity for analysis at the subcellular level – looking at the processes occurring within the single egg cell.

It’s one of a range of projects that researchers are involved with, watching living red blood cells affected by malaria, sickle cell disease and other blood disorders, and monitoring how single cells respond to drugs.

Other projects involve visualising cells for cancer diagnosis, organ donation, heart disease, stem cell research and algae research. Much of this work will benefit from access to synchrotron infrared light.

"The beauty of the synchrotron and the infrared beamline is that we can apply it to any cells. We are only limited by our imagination."

All these projects and more are now in danger because of a funding stoush between State and Federal governments. State Innovation Minister Louise Asher has refused to commit to the facility, which is due to run out of funds in June next year. It needs $156 million over five years to continue operating but its operators say it needs $294 million to make it world-class. Ms Asher is blaming the former Labor government of leaving "black holes" in the synchrotron's funding.

Having friends who use the facility, I know how much time and effort is spent in writing for grants to continue their research. The synchrotron isn't free for their use nor for any other scientist who comes to Melbourne to use it. How much money would you invest for a treatment for Alzheimer's?

Put $294 million against what the Grand Prix is going to cost us in the next few years.

A gas guzzling brmm brmm festival for revheads who like to gawk at little cars and scantily clad pit crew bimbos which gives us precisely nothing to benefit Australians unlike this lovely big miracle machine.

Let's visit Iceland again.

Remember Eyjafjallajokull, the small erupting volcano in Iceland that brought air travel to a standstill over England and Europe? The one that gave us haunting beautiful photographs and a tongue twister of a name.

The heat from the lava was so intense that it melted several glaciers nearby. This is a bit like "Where's Wally" but he's there in front of this enormous chunk of glacial debris sitting on the bedrock of where its icy surround used to be.

So the Grimsvotn volcano, under the Vatnajokull glacier in south-east Iceland, has begun to erupt, throwing a plume of white smoke about 15 kilometres into the air. It last exploded in 2004 but even though it's one of Iceland's most active volcanoes, its effects are expected to be only local.

It just melted through several tens of metres of ice and sent a large volume of course-grained ash into the atmosphere.

Just another day in Iceland, move along folks, nothing to see here......yet.

The new things in life

A new doctor who doesn't bulk bill for a double first consultation equals $95 but I got $67 back from Medicare.
He seems to know what he's talking about even with me confusing him every five seconds. I'm so used to telling doctors about Mum that I forget important stuff about me. You'd think with all the pain I went through, I would remember when I had both knees crushed and replaced.
So I have new medication, one of which is so tiny, if I drop it I'll never find it.

Now I have a real bitch about pharma companies now. Once apon a time, in the good old days, you got your pills with a nice long screed telling you all the rotten things that might happen, what was in the pills, when to take the pills but now all you get is a notice telling you to look online. It doesn't even say on the bottle what the damn things are for but it's easy for the cholesterol, $70 a box, everything else is cheap.
I go back on Monday to get results of blood tests. Blood taken by a nurse who seemed to be more used to handling a bazooka instead of a quaint little needle.

Another new thing, a purse. It's a proper bastard and I'd have been really annoyed if I had paid full price for it. Italian Leather on the box, made in China inside the purse. And all I can say is that Chinese money must be a lot smaller than ours. But it was the closest to the one I already had and the worse thing a woman can do is completely change the style of her purse. You'll lose everything including your mind. Every purse I picked up had very little space for actual money but 30 different places for credit cards. I still hate the purse.

Finally a new thought dawns in my mouldy brain. Call after call from charities have blighted my life these past weeks. No I can't sell your raffle tickets, I don't have any friends and I can't afford them. I'm beginning to get very inventive with my lies (if there's a Hell, I have a place booked) but I've realized it's getting near to the end of the financial year and every little contribution counts towards a tax refund. Applause please, it's taken me years to figure that out. I don't earn enough to pay tax unless you include that stinking GST especially on cat food, pardon me, so piss off charities. In this country, charities shouldn't have to beg for money. So if you're thinking of ringing me for money, nick off I have a chocolate habit to support.

MENTMORE

Here's the turreted pile that Hannah's Papa left to her on his death. She was rather fond of it but unfortunately died at the age of 39, not enough time to really enjoy it.

And if you think it's familiar, it was used as a movie set for The Mummy Returns and as Wayne Manor in Batman. Roxy music recorded "Avalon" and Enya has been known to warble throught the halls.

Tiara time again, donate to my fund.

Anyone got a coin purse with a 1.5 million pounds in it?

This little sweetheart is up for auction next month.

The tiara has 13 saltwater pearls - six button shaped ones ringed with diamonds and seven pear-shaped pearls dangling from tear-drop diamond surmounts.

It was owned by Hannah Primrose, a socially and politically active heiress, born into the powerful Rothschild family. She reputedly became the country's richest woman when her father died in 1874, leaving her the sum of two million pounds, properties including a turreted mansion in Buckinghamshire plus a huge stash of jewels.

Four years later she married Archibald Philip and became Countess Rosebery and Christie's Auctioneers believe the owner of the tiara with matching brooch and bracelet. Her jewells apparently rivelled some of the crowned heads of Europe.

There were some very snotty remarks about Hannah's weight in the comments section of the Daily Mail (yes, my dirty secret, I read it) but I think she looks serene and lovely. Perhaps because I have a feeling that she looks a lot like me only well dressed and much better jewelled.

Two plane seats for the lady

Meet exotic dancer Chelsea Charms and her inflatable assets.

She's had her breasts enlarged by a, now illegal, procedure in which polyproylene string was implanted into each breast.

The material irritates the breast lining, creating a serum which enlarges the breasts, a process which could continue indefinitely but which she insists stops eventually.They are still growing at the rate of an inch a month.

Gee, guess what, they actually make living a bit difficult. She has trouble eating, has to sleep on her back, and has trouble fitting into aeroplane toilets. Not to mention the regular exercises to be able to support the watermelon sized boobs.

I am still trying to picture her doing an exotic dance without killing the front row of droolers but stripping wouldn't be so hard, just breathe in. Pole dancing? No that could be hazardous to everyone's health.

There are questions though. I am a fattyboombah so I can't throw oranges at watermelon boobs if that's her life ambition but to put something into the body that is not, inert like silicon (it moves) or saline, but is still causing growth doesn't seem like a good idea. The lefty is very near the heart and both are sitting over the lungs.

What if the implanted string decides to migrate?

I was waiting for her to say her decision empowers her.

Would feminists say it empowers her?

I would say it empowered the bank account of the doctor who put it in there in the first place.

At my age, I'm just happy mine are heading towards my feet and doing their job of keeping my chest warm.

Etiquette again

This one is a biggie.

How to leave a doctor to go to a new one and take 35 years of medical history with you.
And about 25 of those years are in my old doctor/surgeon's handwriting on old cards that would test a Maya cryptologist to decipher. Probably the pertinent points were put on computer at some stage when two clinics merged. He hated not being at his own clinic, hated the computer, hated the organization of every patient's visit and I'm sure this had a lot to do with his death not long after. So I inherited the remaining member of the old team.

On my very first visit, he showed himself to be fatphobic and I tore strip off him that day, his very first day at the clinic. My own doctor nearly fell over laughing and dined out on the story for years. But when I had the tests for cholesterol, sugar and whatever else, the first thing out of his mouth was "lap band surgery". When I said absolutely not, I don't think he's cared about me since. Back in November my Vitamin D levels were very low and he told me to sit in the sun for 15 minutes a day and now I'm told, they're so low I should be having injections.

The doctor who cares for mother at the nursing home has opened a surgery 15 minutes from here, next to a pharmacy, psychologist (for him, not me), podiatrist, my dentist and I can walk there instead of nearly an hour by bus.

Why now? New medications that aren't being monitored properly. Cholesterol side affects, pains in all joints including the spine which is flowing on to the legs. Blood Pressure is not dropping at all despite the pills that send me to sleep in the chair, as it did this morning for two hours. The diabetes meds have been doubled and so has the stomach pain despite eating it with food, another side affect. And to top it off, all of this I've had to find out from the internet since you don't get a pamphlet in with the pills anymore. The so-called cures are killing me. Cholesterol is down to 3.3 but the bad is still above the good. Glucose levels haven't moved either.

The best thing was the Diabetes educator confirming that extreme stress will play havoc with the glucose levels in the body. "Have I had any stress in the last year?" I felt like giving her the blog address and telling her to go back to 2006 and keep reading. Now I am in the system for Diabetes but with this clinic and current doctor, who is holidaying again, probably Hawaaii and I want out.

Are my medical records mine or the clinic's?
Do I register with the new doctor first before I ask for the records and piss off the other doctor?
Do I play with both and let the new doctor run interference for the records?
Do I kill the new doctor if the first words are "lap band surgery"?

A new look at our Milky Way

From the highest mountain in the Canary Islands,Terje Sorgjerd set his camera for a five hour sequence not expecting a sandstorm.
Video producer was Sandrine Ceurstemont.

Drool on River.

It's more common in America to have a Groom's Cake as the Bridal Cake is not the gorgeous fruit creation we usually enjoy. They go more for lemon cheesecake, angel cake, chocolate mousse cake in separate layers covered in butter icing and used for the desert.
So Williams nursery cake came up a treat and I could nom a piece or two right now.

Lilly of the valley and the initials of the Bride and Groom.

Catherine wanted the language of flowers to decorate her cake and they certainly made a delicate arrangement but I haven't heard if they used William's sword to make the first cutting (before Harry roared in, spurs and all). If you look closely you can see the delicate tracery of icing that reflects the lace on the wedding gown.

And elegant cake and not a plastic bridge or glass horse and coach in sight. Congrats to the cake maker.

Lost emails

I lost my optusnet email address when I gave up dial-up and had that nasty fling with Telstra.
Now that I have optusnet wireless I also have my optusnet email although the password is slightly different so I must have set it up.

So after going through 3 months of emails, apologies to all who languished in the darkness of the internet corner of misplaced addresses.

I have my sitemeter back and my recipes. Oh, really bad to go through 3 months of cake recipes. But sitemeter says I have readers and wanderers so colour me happy.

Sick person etiquette

I'm sure somewhere there must be a book on sick bed etiquette.
Miss Bossy came in to see her mother today and sat on the bed, practically on her chest really.
Her mother has been very ill since their latest family outing and I had to check a couple of times today to see if her breathing was still going on.
My mother just looked at me and said nothing but the look was clear, 'never do that to me' as Miss B plonked herself down.

I've been in hospital so many times and the one thing that I can't stand is anyone bumping the bed and sitting in my space. You know, get back a bit, germ laden visitors. Don't disturb the ring of antiseptic round my person.

My mother's quite happy to see me sitting at the side of the bed unless she picks up the scent of a cake type treat and then it's different although most of the time I don't have to move, the woman has an extendable arm that can snatch a goodie like a spider downing a fly.

Into the fray once more

I'm finding it a bit hard to post anything about the Mater this week.
Another crisis, minor as yet, hit on Friday. The dreaded cellulitis made a return visit and unfortunately wasn't discovered until after the doctor left.
It was a big 'High Tea' afternoon for the wedding but when she was wheeled into the day room, it started spinning so back to bed she went.
That's when they spotted the leg gearing up for another bout of infection.

So she's all alone in her room while the party is in full swing and she said she didn't care.
Not caring about a party is a bad sign.
I stayed for the afternoon/night until she's eaten some food.
I also fixed the mobile phone which, in her delerium the other day, she was playing like a piano.
Fix the simcard, fix the missed calls, fix the date/time and discover she has $26 credit. She used that to ring me in the middle of the wedding. Try holding a cat, ice-cream in a cone and a phone without licking the wrong one.

The chairs down there are hard on the bum even one as padded as mine but what's another 6 hours or so. Three years ago I would have danced a jig if she had dropped dead at my feet. Nasty and vicious with pain and brain half dead, all the regulars know the story but now she's happy. She's busy, she enjoying people, loves going out for coffee and shopping, loves doing craft again and enjoying watching DVDs of shows she hasn't seen for years. Sister can't understand why I bother with buying them, she'll probably only get one watch out of them. Sometimes I could really bitchslap her and enjoy it.

Now I'm trying to deal with her dying because she's my mother again not some evil harriden making my life a misery, well she still can do that but it's not the same as days of old. Can't talk to my sister who doesn't care, can't talk to the BOH who cares way too much. Must stop dealing with it by gambling, eating and spending money. The BOH has been forbidden to take me to the pub, take me to Maccas, but I draw the line at him saying, 'do you really need to buy that?'. That's far too much like the ex. That one is something I'll have to do myself. The depression is such that even his annoying girlfriend isn't annoying me, that's a worry.

A another trip down there tomorrow, hopefully with the $300 worth of DVDs she's looking forward to. And after all the ghastly years since 2006, it's nice to walk in to a cheery face and a welcome.

Diagnosed

At last I know why my backside looks like a working bullock.

Well there goes the blood pressure

Six hours watching mother in and out of hallucintations is really great fun.
A temperature of 38.9 and climbing.
Nausea.
Severe neck and shoulder pain.
It's a good thing she was lying on a pale green frilly pillowcase or I wouldn't have been able to tell her face from a white one except for the dark circles around her eyes and mouth.

This virus or whatever hit very suddenly at midday and galloped away all afternoon.
I called my sister who left her shift at the hospital.
While ma was lucid we made sure of what she wanted, to to to hospital if necessary or stay where she was. A very forceful 'I'm staying here' was all we needed to put on record.

Sister left, I stayed for the locum to arrive. She seemed a lot better with the pain control, panadol for the temp and maxalon for the sickness. She still drifted in and out of lucidity.
Our family is so inappropriate with laughter in any serious situation but laughing when she has a mouthfull of mohair rug thinking it was her tea is just our way. Besides which she offered to share it with me.

Locum arrived, temp was down to 37.6, lungs were clear, pain had subsided to manageble levels and she was drinking, input but no output since I'd been there. Tests are being done tomorrow and when I left she was being made comfortable for the night and I'm still up at 11.46 with my eyeballs hanging out.

I'll be back tomorrow to see what her own doctor has to say. If it is an infection from the chopped toe, thank you professional nitwit podiatrist, then I'll be saying a few words. So much for the sensible diet, no stress etc, etc. I came home, ate everything in the fridge and found a packet of Jaffa biscuits that went down a treat. I'm going to bed and I have a stomach full of acid through not being sensible, that'll learn me.

More anxiety and I so need more anxiety

Nothing like a walk to the corner shop on a Sunday morning for the papers and if it's warm, a coffee. So relaxing to sit at the outside table, drinking a cappuccino and watching the birds and maybe a cloud or two pass by.

But now research has found that if you combine a coffee or two with a fatty breakfast, it doubles the amount blood sugar levels rise after eating a fatty meal by itself. Bad for people at risk of diabetes.

The study also showed that eating a fatty meal can disrupt the body's ability to process sugar up to six hours later, meaning what we eat at breakfast determines how effectively our body processes lunch and beyond.

You see what I have to put up with. Not the egg and bacon, usually it's egg and mushroom, but the constant stream of information of what I should and should not eat, when I should eat and what tablets have to go with food and which don't. So my breakfast this morning was two slices of pumpkin seed toast with tomato, a fresh pear and black Earl Grey tea, two fish oil capsules, a diabetes tablet and a cholesterol tablet. It should be healthy but the letter from the pathology says I still have slightly abnormal readings from the tests, nothing to be worried about but grab $60 and see your doctor. Believe me if those readings haven't come down significantly then it's ditch the pills, ditch the doctor and take my chances.

Diet not going so well.

They say that people start to look like their pets at some stage but me and the cat are starting to think the same thoughts. I've noticed even the birds won't touch left-over Tofu.

Nature's school room.

The US Transportable Array is a fleet of 400 high-end seismographs dotted around North America and the measurements of the Japanese earthquake recorded by these instruments has given scientists something to re-think about mega quakes. The magnitude-9 megathrust has been the subject of intense analysis especially from the Japanese who have an incredibly dense network of GPS and seismic coverage.

A subduction earthquake where one tectonic plate pushes underneath another rips in one or two directions along a fault line but this quake came in bursts of energy rips shown in the chart below.

Hiroo Kanamori of CalTec analysed the rupture zone which he said was split into two areas. One was a rupture zone along the Pacific Ocean's Japan Trench which he believes was responsible for the Tsunami and another rupture along the fault line, deeper and closer to the coast, caused most of the shaking.

The estimates of how far the tectonic plates slid past one another is almost 60 metres and if correct, is a massive shift unprecedented in the recorded history of earthquakes. What is more surprising is that the slip happened on a fault in the ocean crust that is about 140 million years old and megathrusts quakes are more usual on young, hot, swiftly subducting plates.

Now scientists are realising that previous models of which type earthquakes would hit where are no longer set in lava (joke, laugh please). A magnitude 9 is just waiting to happen anywhere on a subduction zone.

Skinny is the new bitching

Don't weigh in on obese people, study says

April 22, 2011

Obese people are more likely to avoid the exercise they need to fight the battle if their loved ones tease and criticism them, a new study shows.

The study, published this month in the journal Obesity, surveyed 111 obese adult men and women about weight discrimination and how it influenced their motivation to exercise.

"This idea that we can use a tough love approach, it just doesn't seem to work," Dr Lenny Vartanian, a researcher from the University of NSW and lead author of the study said.

"In fact it appears to backfire, making people less likely to exercise."

Dr Lenny Vartanian, who studies the psychology of body image and weight discrimination, said one reason for this could be the embarrassment felt by overweight people when others "stare, laugh or make negative comments".

"When we exercise this mostly takes place in public, like in a gym," he said.

"So if someone gets negative comments it makes people want to avoid being in those public situations."

Almost half of those surveyed reported experiencing some form of weight stigma at least once a week, whether it be hearing negative comments or missing out on a job because of their weight.

Respondents said the most hurtful comments came from spouses, family members and doctors.

Dr Vartanian said public policy should also focus on lessening discrimination against fat people.

"We have certain policies in place to guard against all those groups who have been historically marginalised, whether due to race or religion," he added.

"Fat stigma is really the last remaining acceptable form of discrimination."

Read more:

http://www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/wellbeing/dont-weigh-in-on-obese-people-study-says-20110421-1dqdx.html#ixzz1KFSCuUrV

Fat stigma exists because it is related to unhealthy behaviours - what's next? Don't pick on people who smoke? Don't criticise violent people? Fat stigma is not discrimination. Obesity is an epidemic which costs us millions of dollars... What about all of us who AREN'T fat because we make healthy choices... People just need to wake up to themselves and learn some restraint and it doesn't help having 'professionals' defend their poor behaviour...

OverExcuses - April 22, 2011, 9:40AM

And that comment by OverExcuses is why I'd like to punch smarmy thin people in the mouth.

I'm dealing with a doctor who wants me to have lapband surgery so he can wipe his hands of any problems I have. Apparently it'll fix everything. I do make healthy choices, don't smoke, don't drink. I don't go to a gym, there are no pensioner rates at the gym. Fine, walking is free if you don't fall over broken footpaths, get chewed by dogs or run down by creeps on skateboards. Or the arthritis is hurting in both feet because of the cold weather or the tin knees are still recovering from the last fall or you know you're going to fall heavily on the first skinny bitch that wanders in front of you just to hear her matchstick legs break. It's a wonder Abbott hasn't thought of a way to tax us on poundage, $2 off the pension for every bit of blubber that wobbles.

Damn, shouldn't have said that, he soaks up other people's ideas like bread soaks up gravy, not that I'm allowed to eat bread or gravy.

Earthquakes again

North Queensland copped a 5.4 magnitude earthquake that shook Townsville about 3.30 on Saturday afternoon. It was even felt as far away as Brisbane. Christchurch was also rocked by a magnitude 5.3 aftershock at about the same time. And not to be left out, Japan had a 5.8 that shook Tokyo. Like my new paragraph break?

Bossy bitches and other women who annoy me.

I deliberately left out men who annoy me. I see so few men that they don't blip on my radar anymore. But the bossy bitch that is dinging my bell at the moment is someone I can't do a thing about. My mother will put up with the annoyance to keep the peace. Now there are four beds in the room. Four spaces that belong to the residents, it's their home space. Photographs, television, radio and in mother's space enough craft crap to last for the next 20 years. I ought to know, I'm forever tidying and throwing out the odd bits. The day room and the activities room are for socializing, talking, playing bingo, eating and in mother's case, supervising the unloading of the day's craft crap for her to play with. This is where there is not a defined personal space. The only problem is that mother is so social that everybody tends to gravitate around her so every so often she'll stay in her room for a bit of piece and quiet. Miss bossy bitch will actually wheel her mother all the way from the day room to my mother's side in her personal space and leave her there, for company. Not much you can do about that when both are in wheelchairs. Last night bossy bitch asked (asked?) mum to turn off her Dvd viewer so she could show her all the photos she took at Williamstown. Mother said she would have liked to have taken a page out of my book and told her to fuck off (I do that?) but she made do with a firm no. This is the equivalent of walking into a neighbour's house, turning off their TV and plonking on the couch to show family photos. It's a personal space for FFS! When I rang, Bossy Bitch and son, Obnoxious bastard, were taking their charge out to lunch so mum told me to ring back. She didn't want them to hear about what her doctor had said or what was ordered from the pharmacy as BB is inclined to tell her what she should be taking, naturapath wise. Just what I need, mother taking something to turn her into a BB. Oh bless blogger save! All the lights and my puter just went out. Back now. The other women who annoy me I can't talk about, one of them is due to walk in any moment and I must go and sharpen my talons not that she's smart enough to realized she's being insulted. No wonder my blood pressure is 188 over stroke. And I'll be in an diabetic coma about 5 o'clock since I've just gone through a box of Cadbury's Roses, the addict's equivalent of $2 sherry in a brown paper bag.

Majorly pissed with people

Wonderful day for a trip yesterday. Williamstown was sunny with blue skies, just ideal for being wheeled along the strip and doing a bit of spending. A shame that one pushy bitch person spoiled it for everyone else. She took over completely and instead of all the wheelchairs going to the information centre and on from there, she told the bus driver to go round and round to show her mother the houses she used to live in. Not only that, she stopped the bus and got out to photograph the houses while the wheel chair bound were left inside. Did her mother enjoy that little side trip? I'm not sure since she turned around once and asked my mother, "Where are we?" So instead of sitting along the shore, watching the ships and eating fish and chips, they were stuck in a hotel for the pensioner's meal. There wasn't enough time to get to the beach, thank you bossy bitch. The bus was a disgrace and the driver was a woman. Nothing wrong with being a female bus driver but a burly wharfie with a licence might have done better getting enormous wheelchairs up and down the ramp and buckling them in properly. My mother wheelchair is enormous and heavy without her in it so I know what I'm talking about. The bus itself rattled and shook so much, one resident had to go back by car because of sickness. Shame it wasn't bossy bitch. Mother is still in shock at being so close to craft shops and not spending a dollar or sixty. My other pissed off moment came this morning. A letter from the Alfred hospital asking for a donation for their Intensive Care Unit. Apart from mumbling, ask Ron Walker and Bernie for a donation, as I opened the letter, I thought I might be able to spare $20. Until the letter was put aside and I opened the photographs. Yes, dumb me thought they would be of the ICU and equipment. I was not prepared to see several photographs of a boy hooked up to life support, a boy who could have been mine. Same leg in bandages, chest, throat tube and swollen face, machines in action, same colour hair and so young. The story said it all, about how he lost most of his blood on the road, but how he walked away from ICU. Mine didn't, most of his blood was lost on the OR floor. Next week we would have been celebrating his 40th birthday. Forty years, what does a child look like at 40? So a slight meltdown and the Alfred does not get a donation, I already gave.

Dare I risk another Kaboom

If you thought one volcanic eruption was bad, try for three and at night. On June 10, 1886, New Zealand saw Mount Wahanga erupt which was then followed by Mount Tarawera and the mountain's twin cone Ruawahia.

This event destroyed the North Island's biggest tourist attraction. Tourists came from all over the world, by ship, to look at the beautiful travertine terraces which were formed by geothermally heated water cascading down the hill slope leaving the pink and white silica deposits. These terraces enclosed pools of water with the White Terraces being the larger of the two formations. The Pink Terraces were where the visitors would go to bathe.

The White Terrace

After the eruption, a crater over 100 metres deep was all that was left of the Terraces. This crater gradually filled with water to form a new Lake Rotomahana, 30 metres higher and larger than the old lake but on February 3, 2011, scientists found what was left of one of the Terraces.

Only part of the Pink Terraces were left seen in sonar images scanned by underwater vehicles as a pinky, sediment-covered staircase rising one to two metres from the lake-bed and running for a length of about 70 metres.

The Pink Terrace

The original sets of terraces were at different locations on Lake Rotomahana - pink on the western bank and white on the northern end. Scientists will now try for seismic mapping of the lake floor, penetrating the deep sediments to see if any more of the terraces still exist.

The village of Wairoa was also buried but was excavated and the area is now ringed in poplar trees that have grown from fence posts buried in the eruption.

The White Terrace

While there was little notice of the eruptions to come, earthquakes only a few hours before the event there was another sign. Tourists were ferried across the lake visit the Terraces. On one journey the guide, Sophia Hinerangi, saw a mysterious phantom war canoe appear out of the mist.

The high priest of the Tuhourangi tribe interpreted this as a warning. He feared the terraces were being exploited as a tourist attraction without due regard to the ancestral values.

The priest, Tuhoto Ariki, survived, dug from his buried house four days after the eruption. Sophia's house which did not collapse, sheltered many survivors.

The Pink Terrace

The domed mountains split apart and the fissure extended down the mountain, through the Terraces, from Rotomahana to Waimangu 10 kilometres away. The roar of the eruption was heard as far away as Christchurch and Auckland.

Mount Tarawera today.

Tarawera still stands on part of the series of fault lines, with 10 craters along the line of the rift that split the mountain.

Get a move on Blogger!

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Wednesday, April 06, 2011

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Old blogger is so easy.

It is blogger's fault. Something to do with old blog edit that's disappearing the paragraphs. They're fixing it and it had better be soon. Otherwise I'll be posting in very short sentences.

It's all downhill

I am a total hypocrite for signing a petition to do something positive about poker machines and then spending a couple of hours this afternoon in my small local, having a spin and a beer. This was due to the stresses of this morning after the hideous night I had. Stupid panic attacks in the dark upsetting the stomach, the mind and various other bodily parts. I had some gastrolyte to make sure I could stand long enough to get to the doc's and that took care of the 12 hour fast for blood tests. I had the flu vac in the opposite arm to the tetanus shot, not going down that road again. Had a weigh-in, oh lookey, lost weight. I'm not dumb enough to tell him his scales are crap and I'm 2kgs up on his. Pointed out all the pill prescriptions I need re-filling. He makes me promise to see the diabetes management woman even though she gets a hundred bucks or so UP FRONT, some of which I get back from medicare. I also promise to see the podiatrist to check if my feet are okay with diabetes. I show him how well my toe nail is growing back, nothing wrong with circulation there. He writes out blood test sheet anyway since I have to do it for DM in a fortnight. Then I stupidly say I haven't had blood pressure taken this year, only because I've been avoiding him. Oh crap, 188 over stroke. Well it's his fault for not taking it last December because he was too busy thinking about his holiday. I tell him it's family stress, he gives me more pills and says to do something relaxing for the rest of the day. Ha! It's shopping day and paying bills day and trying to work out 10 cans of cat food for $8. Don't ask, I ended up with 30 and had to count those 3 times. I remember to keep money in case Coles has better specials. Hike up to the second bus of the day which happens to go past my local. Sitting there happily with bells and whistles going off and mobile rings. Yes, it's fallen down to the bottom of the Tardis bag and off by the time I answer. Wouldn't you just know it, the Nursing Home. Ma dropped a hot cup of tea on herself and they have to inform me, the doctor's been informed in case the skin blisters and she's fine. Bugger, joyful afternoon is stuffed. I know she's fine but feel the need to go and re-assure her and the bus is right outside and my metcard doesn't expire til 5. I ring the BOH to bring in the important groceries, ice-cream top of the list. He feels the need to see mum and will pick me up. Cash in the coins and have two left over so I put them in the machine nearest the door where I could see the car pull up. $2 won me $83. It'll never happen again, not in a million years. So I wander in to the room and tell mother she really knows how to be a pest in my life. Person with mother in oppposite bed looks disprovingly but she's one of these, goo-gah lovey dear mummy daughters. If I did that with mine, she'd think she was dying. The only worry is blistering on her very fragile skin but the doctor will come immediately if that happens. She gets another visit tomorrow but only because Coles has bargains. So thanks Doc, it was a very relaxing afternoon, I must do it again but next time drink more beer so I'll be unable to answer the phone.

Still the same except different.

Way back in 2007, I did one of those personality tests on the internet and printed out a copy. I found that copy in my odds and ends file and decided to go back and see if I had changed at all. The site to go is here Apparently I am still a considerate visionary. They give you a chart of 13 personality traits after 6 pages of tests, nothing too strenuous for the brain cells. So in 2007: Confidence was 54 Openess was zero Extroversion was 14 Empathy was 90 Trust in others was 72 Agency was 4 Masculinity was zero Femininity was 94 Spontaneity was 60 Attention to style was 92 Authoritarianism was 8 Earthy/Imaginative was 28 Aesthetic/Functional was 56 In 2011: Confidence was 82 Openness was 4 Extroversion was 10 Empathy was 94 Trust in others was 96 Agency was 22 Masculinity was 6 Femininity was 100 Spontaneity was 42 Attention to style was 94 Authoritarianism was 2 Earthy/Imaginative was 4 Aesthetic/Functional was 92 How about that, I'm still a heart warming well dressed anarchist.

I'm giving up hating Abbott for Lent.

Yeah, right, I'm lying after reading this.

"Mr Abbott says that with only just over 1 per cent of disability pensioners moving back into the workforce each year and nearly 60 per cent of recipients having potentially treatable mental health or muscular-skeletal conditions, it is time for reform."

My mental health does a bunk every time I see this fool spout more nonsense.

My muscular-skeletal condition crumbles when I think how many people voted for this this this this, oh for Heaven's sake whatever he is.

Not human.

OMG, what if he's an alien and they're all like him and we're invaded?

We'd be safe, if they're all as belligerent as he is, they'll fight each other to the death to get to the top.

Creep!

There'll be an exam on this!

The albatross was immortalized in Samual Taylor Coleridge's famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner but these birds have always been watched by sailors. They don't so much as fly as soar across the waves in a swoopping flight pattern upwind in wind speeds of 10 to 20 knots.

Albatrosses spend the majority of their long lives above the ocean. By the age of 50, an albatross has typically flown at least 1.5 million miles. The adults routinely fly hundreds of miles to gether food before returning to feed their chicks. The lucky ones make it, the unlucky die trying to grab the bait on the miles of long hooked fishing lines. Their wingspans can reach up to 12 feet but they rarely flap their wings

Phil Richardson, a retired oceanographer but still at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, has studied the aerodynamics of the birds which can fly in any direction including into the wind without losing speed or steadiness in flight and with no wing flapping.

With his knowledge of sailing, gliding and his work with the movement of ocean currents, he began to look closely at the albatross.

Richardson came up with a theory involving the interaction between wind and ocean. In the trough of waves, there is little wind, because the waves block it. But above the waves and their troughs, winds blow briskly across the ocean in thin layers. Lower layers are slowed by air-sea friction near the ocean surface, but winds speeds increase as you go farther from the surface and higher up.

He concluded that albatrosses needed a minimum wind speed of 7 knots to soar and calculated that they could soar upwind at a speed of 12 knots. An albatross ascending from a wave trough at an angle would encounter progressively faster winds increasing its speed in the air as a burst of kinetic energy that enables it to climb to heights of 10 to 15 metres. (Hello, are you still with me) It then makes a tight turn downwind and swoops into another wave trough, adding airspeed as it descends through the wind sheer into progressively slower winds. Each addition of airspeed balances the loss of energy caused by drag on the bird. The albatross keeps up this cycle and each swoop cycle takes about 10 seconds. (a heck of a lot shorter than it took me to understand this).

This phenomenon is called dynamic soaring and glider pilots know it well. Richardson still didn't know how they flew upwind but being a sailor it came to him that the birds were tacking as ship's sails do. He went back to his model and calculated that the fastest course upwind for an albatross is to tack about 30 degrees to the right and left of the wind. He observed that the birds climb upwind but often dive perpendicular to the wind to maximize their average velocity in an upwind direction. (WAKE UP, this is interesting)

Of course the military are interested in all forms of flight dynamics at a small scale, using bird, bat and insect flight as models for the development of autonomous drones for use in war zones. They already have them but want better ones, don't they always?

"Great albatross! The meanest birds

Spring up and flit away,

While thou must toil to gain a flight,

And spread those pinions gray;

But when they once are fairly poised,

Far o'er each chirping thing

Thour sailest wide to other lands,

E'en sleeping on the wing."

Perserverando by Charles Godfrey Leland

Now for Easter

SOTHEBY'S WILL SELL THE MOST VALUABLE EMERALD AND DIAMOND TIARA TO HAVE APPEARED AT AUCTION IN OVER 30 YEARS IN ITS SALE OF MAGNIFICENT AND NOBLE JEWELS IN GENEVA ON 17.MAY.

ESTIMATED TO SELL FOR A RECORD £3.1-6.2 MILLION, THE HIGHLY IMPORTANT AND EXTREMELY RARE EMERALD AND DIAMOND TIARA IS COMPOSED OF 11 EXCEPTIONALLY RARE COLOMBIAN EMERALD PEAR-SHAPED DROPS WHICH WEIGH OVER 500 CARATS IN TOTAL.

THE EMERALDS ARE ALSO BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN IN THE PERSONAL COLLECTION OF EMPRESS EUGENIE.

THE SUPERB TIARA WAS COMMISSIONED, POSSIBLY FROM THE RENOWNED JEWELERS CHAUMET, BY GUIDO COUNT VON HENCKEL, FIRST PRINCE VON DONNERSMARCK FOR HIS SECOND WIFE PRINCESS KATHARINA. THE JEWELRY COLLECTION OF THE DONNERSCARCKS WAS KNOWN TO BE ON PAR WITH, OR EVEN TO HAVE EXCEEDED, THOSE OF MANY OF THE CROWNED HEADS OF EUROPE.

Now since I'm off chocolate, this would make a very nice Easter present. I have two green velvet gowns and a four strand pearl necklace with an emerald and diamond clasp. I could just see me sitting in the drawing room wearing this, downing a bottle of Cristal Champagne and watching "The Wedding". My invitation must have been mislaid in the mail.

It's been a long week.

This should be me, dressed in my favourite velvet, out in the garden, calm, peaceful, at one with nature without the garden crawlers. Damn millipedes are everywhere and I hate them.
My computer monitor decided it had had enough of life and was shrinking rapidly inwards and it would have lasted another month or two. Monday morning the BrickOutHouse, went out and came home with a flat screen monitor for me. Well, that's been fun. I've gone from a TV to an IMAX and being not technical at all, it's taken until today to get the resolution right even with reading the instructions. You know what I'm like with instructions, dyslexic. I had the fonts on standard type which was fine for the small monitor but this monster needed clear type and I think I'm right now.
The other is sitting on the floor behind me. I feel sorry that I didn't have time to tell him he was being disassembled. The flat screen is letting in so much light from the window that I can see how filthy with dust the keyboard is. Great, more vac'ing with the attachments that go over the the front of the hand held vac.
For months I've been telling BOH to bring in his clothes from the car. That would be the small car that is now belonging to someone else and he has a silver station wagon because I was having trouble getting in and out of the small car. You've all seen the 20 clowns getting out of a VW, so you get the picture. So the clothes, filled a double bed and how he had them in a small car would compare to protein folding. I've even washed his hammock and by the time all the socks were dried and put together, I only had 4 orphans left. Anything with more holes than T-shirt went to the bin, quietly, in a black plastic bag where he couldn't see them. Of course, being male he didn't bring them in on the first sunny days of the week, it was on the first rain day we had. There's nothing like blankets and jumpers that have been out in the rain and sun for days, lovely smell.
Now my sister and I have been telling him for ages about the chemicals he works with and how they get into his clothes and to get overalls. Never took a gnat's notice, hence the burn holes in shirts from welding and horrible chemical smells in fabric. Luckily for me, Woolies had a 3kg container of Oxyaction on sale this week. After all the washing was finished I hauled him out to look in the stainless steel sink, at the layer of chemical sludge on the bottom. Thank you Oxyaction. His clothes are neatly stacked in a bookcase and his very good clothes are in the wardrobe where he'd never think to look. I highly recommend putting men's clothes in bookcases, where they don't have to expend energy opening and shutting doors, even his shoes are stacked on the bottom shelf. His back op was a great success but he still can't bend over to tie his shoelaces, that's a no-no.
In the middle of this was shopping, two days with mother and a lovely time at the Optus shop with a salesman who was in great danger of having a mobile phone shoved down his throat. This is a shop, it sells Optus stuff, it has customers who pay for sales, it does not need a patronising imbecile behind the new shiny counter. Yes, I could have done all this by phone or internet but I wanted it done instore and on the spot. No, I didn't care that there was a queue out the door because Optus is too cheap to put on more salespeople. The new sim card is in the phone, credits are on the phone but the calls go straight to mailbox so I believe the little creep has done it deliberately. Now I have to go down to the home and fix it or I'll have her sisters ringing me thinking she's dead.
And the vacuum cleaner is still sitting in the middle of the lounge but it has been used for 10 minutes. I got the dust out of the fire, lit the pilot light without a hitch and managed to shut the door without breaking anything. Now that I've been so brilliant with this monitor, I'm going to have a shot at hooking up the DVD to the big TV, something the BOH would do in five minutes and he'll probably have to.

He knows me so well.

But not well enough Sedgwick.

How dare you sully

my Bombay Sapphire

with lemon!

But it is true that there is

one ripening lime

on my tree.

One more day of sun

should do it.

Jewells for No-one

Plique-a-jour dragonfly with a few diamonds, aquamarine and gold.
Another dragonfly but with rubies and gold.

And just one more, diamonds, platinum, rubies, gold and Peridots.

No fighting, it's not ladylike but when was this blog ladylike.

Now this is really weird

I've been de-cluttering, again, again and more but this article is only June 2010.
I don't know about other bloggers but I have my blog, sign on password and how to get to blogger written down for my executor. After all I don't want you lot to wonder where I am and I would like lots of wailing and rending of clothes and virtual roses if I happen fall in a hole permanently.

But there are sites on Teh Interwebs that will do it all for you.

mylastemail.com enables you to leave letters, photos or video messages for friends and family, as well as write your own obituary. (What a work of fiction I could write)

deathswitch.com. Imagine you die with a secret that you longed to reveal. (OMG who was on the grassy knoll?) Deathswitch is an automated system that prompts you for your password on a regular basis. If you repeatedly fail to respond, it assumes you have died and emails pre-scripted messages to nominated addresses.

legacylocker.com lets you create a master list of usernames and passwords for all your online accounts and social networking sites. Once your death has been verified by Legacy Locker, the list will be emailed to a named beneficiary.

seppukoo.com. Samurai warriors preferred to commit ritual suicide rather than allow themselves to be captured by enemies. Seppukoo.com enables you to commit "virtual suicide" by deleting your facebook account - or at least it did until a legal wrangle with Facebook, though the service hopes to be up and running again soon.

slightlymorbid.com. Now this is for me considering my executor is totally computer illiterate.
This service enables users to consolidate all their online contacts, allowing a trusted third party to contact them in the event of your demise.

Doesn't mention virtual roses. I can see it now, site after site of my devoted blog pals displaying virtual roses for my virtual glory and by the time I leave I expect they'll have virtual perfume.
I wonder how much to start a website?

I'm trying to ignore the earthquake in the room

Somehow I'm often disappointed in how Argyle Pink diamonds are set but here I think they got it right. This is the Shalimar Ring which features 4.86 Carats of Argyle Pink diamonds with a 1.25 carat pink round diamond centrepiece. It was last valued at $2 million but as they say, if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it. It's my favourite flower shape for a ring. I have a birthday in July, if you're interested.

Stylish, moi?

Poor Elephant's Child won't think of me as stylish by the time I've finished with her elegant meme, the rules of which I've forgotten already.
Link back to EC, done.

Next was 7 things about me. Bwahahahahha.
1. I lie about my weight, age and hair colour.
2. I swear theraputically which means I swear a lot.
3. Naked men in love scenes at the movies make me hysterical with laughter. As dear Sir Robert Helpman once said, some things just don't stop swinging.
4. With the scars and wrinkles I have, you could play snakes and ladders on my body and you wouldn't even lose the counter in my navel, I don't have one.
5. I cannot be hypnotised. I meant by persons, the hypnotic siren call of a magnum dark chocolate ice-cream is an entirely different proposition.
6. I was an alibi for an underbelly style of debt collection by a smooth operator in a 3 piece Italian suit.
7. I'm not particularly fond of babies, lethal weapons that fire at both ends. I don't know why the CIA needed rendition, when anyone stuck in a room full of screaming babies would confess to anything.

15 blogs, you're kidding! Now everyone knows I never do these things the right way so come on my magical mystery tour.
Oh dear, River I remember from my dial-up days that this blog has waiting time but worth for the genius of the artist.
Kath, because of the rotten year she had, this site is for Sapphire .
For the crafties, wander around here and save yourself the price of their magazines.
Jayne, the feral beast will just love this and you will want to break my fingers.
How about a bit of X-File type fun with the spooky and mysterious .
Most of us wouldn't have a blog if we didn't like reading so a visit to the Queen of mystery writers dear Aggie herself. This is a treat to catch up on the not on TV series.
A walk down memory lane for Elephant's Child and the rest of us can just dream about it.
There's always someone in our life that we'd love to blow up, smother or bury so hurry here and do it. You know you want to.
After that you'll need to settle back and contemplate the universe and open a beer, make mine a Cascade Light.
Another site that doesn't relate to Australia but is an ignored era of history in the United States. Don't miss a post of this blog.
Have a feel for the world at large, then here's a new way of looking at it.
Miss O'Dyne would never forgive me if I missed putting in the ultimate eccentric Gavin P-P.
Like to go back in time (I wouldn't, no dunnies, pfft) but reading about it is just as good , actually better.
Lordy, is that the time? I must go, the sun is over the yardarm somewhere.

Wild sharks

Is that a mouth or what? Now down to the scientific, sharks follow their noses to find prey but they only use one nostril at a time. They head in the direction of the first nostril that copped a whiff of noms even if the other nostril detects a higher concentration of the odor.

The problem of hunting by odor is that odors do not travel through the ocean in a straight line like me to Donut King. The scent breaks up into pieces, floating to different levels, being mixed by water currents so timing is all. The shark hits an odor trail at an angle rather than straight on so by turning in the direction of the 'first whiff nostril' the shark will automatically steer into the ordor patch. And the timing? The difference in timing when each nostril catches a scent can be as small as a tenth of a second.

So if you're hoping their timing is off, here comes the second line of nom finding. They have a sensitive organ called a lateral line, which runs the length of their bodies and picks up vibrations in the water. Functioning in a similar way to the hairs on our skin (are yours standing up right now) but more sensitive, it measures minuscule water flow differences and combined with sense of smell allows the shark to track the odor patches straight to the source.


And even if you think you can out swim those teeth and make it to the boat, look at this photo carefully. The Great White is out of the water and in flight so you could be halfway up the outboard ladder and crunchlunch. This photo was taken at False Bay near Cape Town and it was hard finding one that didn't have a seal, porpoise or bloke in its gob. It brings to mind the immortal words of Chief Brody, "We're gunna need a bigger boat".

Bears in the wild

Don't ever google for photos of a Kodiak or any other bear. It's bad enough that idiots want to go out and shoot them for fun but do they have to post photos of their moronic delight. I only went one page in case I came across Sarah Palin wearing that Stars and Stripes bikini cradling her shotgun.

He's sweet though, the one I found for this post although I do hope he might have had a chomp or two on a hunter like a Blue Whale nudging a "research vessel".

Chris Palmer was a producer of wildlife programmes but he's now dumped the bucket on the behind the scenes of such shows. Wild wolves are just as likely to be rented from a game farm.
And the bears. Scenes of bears feeding on a dead elk....looks great but the bears were probably rented and the frenzy over the elk, well that was probably due to the fact that stuffing an elk carcass with jelly beans was sure to attract attention. A bit like putting our Kath in the middle of a chocolate factory.

Even (you may start swearing now Miss O'Dyne) David Attenborough had to admit that film of a polar bear supposedly giving birth in the wild was shot in a zoo.

I think that those shots of huge sharks leaping out of the ocean off the coast of South Africa would have to be legit unless a few sticks of gelignite got tossed around. Next thing you know someone will be telling me that people on Facebook tell lies. I'm an innocent in this world.

I wonder how many jelly beans can be stuffed in an elk?

Memo to self: don't take jelly beans to Alaska.